The Magician
An X-File Story by
Jennifer Lyon (Jenni10647@aol.com) and
Suzanne Bickerstaffe (Ecksphile@aol.com)
Date: 31 May 1995
Disclaimer: The X-Files, and the characters of Fox Mulder and
Dana Scully, and all rights thereto, are the property of FOX
Broadcasting Network. The remainder of this story is the
property of the authors. All comments are welcome.
Authors' note: This story is a small departure from most X-Files
fanfiction. At its heart, it is a fantasy, a slightly deeper trip into
the 'realm' of make-believe. Sit back, relax, suspend your
disbelief, and let us tell you a tale. Enjoy!
Prologue:
He was under no illusions - he was running for his life.
Here, in the deepest part of the forest where the two realms
abutted, there was only one possible haven, the one that Reinald
had told him to seek. The wind-whipped branches lashed at his
face as he crashed through the dark and the rain, his pursuers
terrifyingly close behind. The baying of the Hunters and the
shriek of the Destroyers were increasingly loud in his quivering
ears as he headed by instinct to the only possible escape; if indeed
that's what it was - for nothing had ever returned alive from the
Vortex. He couldn't be sure he wasn't heading into disaster, but
with certain death nipping at his heels, the choice was clear.
He leapt over fallen trees and gnarled roots, panting, his
chest on fire with the need for air. He thought briefly - only
briefly - of his loved ones and the life he would be leaving behind,
then ruthlessly set those thoughts aside. Right now, he needed to
focus on survival. While the baying and shrieks grew ever nearer,
he finally saw his only chance at survival just a few hundred
meters away. He could hear the low pitched roar of the Vortex
as he forced his exhausted limbs onward.
Sandwiched between the pursuing fiends and the
boiling, flashing nothingness of the Vortex, he hesitated for the
briefest of seconds, then the sour scent of the Hunters and the
nauseating stench of the Destroyers strengthened his resolve.
They couldn't be more than fifty meters behind. As he heard their
shouts of impending triumph come closer and closer, he drew a
deep breath and hurled himself into the center of the Vortex. A
scream of terror echoed faintly in his ears as he fell through a
spinning web of light and shadow. Fell endlessly, head over heels,
over and over, until finally...
...he crashed onto the floor of a cold, dark, cheerless
chamber, filled with equipment and metal tables and storage
spaces. Certainly different from what he was accustomed to, but
for the moment, safe. He curled up into a ball in a corner of the
room and slept.
- - - - -
//Reinald stared into the Oracle Cloud - Tarnor was
safe. But to bring him back would take all of the Mage's wisdom
and power. No one else had ever been able to do it - he wasn't
certain that even he could. Especially now, when both his
strength and that of the Realm itself were being assailed on all
sides.... Think, think! Reinald blinked and rubbed his eyes. He
was already exhausted from the search. If he did not find
Another soon, someone with the strength to join with him -
melding their powers together in defense against the great evil -
then the Realm would be lost. Perhaps Tarnor would be better
off wherever he was.
Focusing back on his lost friend, Reinald could get only
fragmented impressions of that strange place. The darkly clouded
images, augmented by a few sensations, smells and tastes, were
obtained less through the Cloud than from his link with Tarnor.
Focusing his thoughts with fierce determination, he sent a
message along that link to comfort himself as much as Tarnor, "I
will not forget - I will bring you back - have courage".//
Chapter One
Washington D.C.
Monday, March 6, 1995
8:30 a.m.
"Scully, you're going to love this one." Mulder grinned
up at his partner as she entered their cramped basement office.
Scully closed the door behind her and made her way
over to her desk. From her expression, and the careless way she
dumped her briefcase on the desk, her week was not starting out
well. "Mulder, when you say that, I know the day is shot. Bad
enough that I overslept, had no hot water for my shower and put
a huge hole in my last pair of hose. Just let me get some coffee
before I become homicidal."
He pushed her steaming mug across the desk at her and
smiled. "All ready for you, Scully." She picked it up and sipped
at the hot liquid gratefully, perching herself on the edge of the
desk. After a couple of swallows, she looked up at him with
suspicion. "Oh, God, now I KNOW I'm going to hate it. Okay,
I'll bite - what is it - Elvis has fathered an alien baby and we're
invited to the christening, or what?"
"I'm hurt, Scully." He feigned taking an arrow through
the heart, then he favored her with a glowing smile. Leaping up
to lean over the desk, he placed his lips near her ear and
whispered conspiratorially, "Read this and BE AMAZED." He
handed her an X-File with a low ID number, then sat back down
in his chair as she flipped through it, scanning the documents, her
eyes widening as she studied the photographs.
"Mulder, this is impossible." Her partner watched with
mixed amusement and amazement as one auburn eyebrow inched
its way up her forehead. She could have given "Mr. Spock"
lessons in how to display that look of intellectual incredulity.
"Evidently not," he replied, leaning back in his chair and
clasping his hands over his knees. "These photographs were
taken at MIT. The file was started in 1951 after the first
occurrence. Entries have been made on an irregular basis six
times since then. All of the occurrences have been similar. A
creature, for want of a better word, suddenly appears in one of
the labs - always the same one - on the MIT campus. This lab is
always kept locked when no one is actually working in it, which
apparently is most of the time. It's opened only on days when
certain experiments are being done using certain equipment.
Because of the classified nature of the experiments, the room isn't
even unlocked for cleaning, so it often stays locked for weeks at
a time. In the occurrences from 1951 to 1987, the creatures
discovered in the lab were dead, probably from starvation or
dehydration . But it's a little different this time. This time,
Scully, we've got a live one."
- - - - -
They were boarding a plane to Logan International
Airport less than ninety minutes later. Scully hadn't bothered to
protest. When Mulder got on the trail of a case like this, he was
impossible to derail. Either she went with him, or he went alone.
At least if she was with him, she could possibly keep him out of
trouble. Of course, there was also the small part of her that was
fascinated by the case itself. She didn't like to admit it, but
sometimes she really was curious about the weird events they
investigated, and this was one of those times.
Finally settling into their seats after a terrifyingly fast
dash to the airport, Scully was appreciative, as she often was
when they traveled, that her smaller size made squeezing into the
cramped seats relatively easy for her. As usual Mulder's long legs
were crammed into an uncomfortable position, one splayed out
into the aisle.
Mulder grimaced at Scully as he adjusted his position
yet again, then opened the briefcase he was still holding in his lap.
He might as well take full advantage of the flight time to fill her
in on more of the details. He spread the photographs out on the
their tray tables. "You'll notice that of the seven creatures, there
are three distinct types, which they have imaginatively named
Type A, Type B and Type C. The types are divided on the basis
of size, facial and body characteristics, and so on. The latest
arrival is a Type B - what I personally prefer to call the Gargoyle
series, as opposed to the Troll series and the Elf series. It stands
approximately one meter tall and weighs 19 kilograms, although
the weight was probably not accurate, as the creature was neither
enthusiastic nor cooperative about being weighed. It does not
appear to understand any of the languages which have been tried
- the count stands at thirty five - but researchers on the scene say
that they feel the creature is intelligent, and they are still seeking
ways to communicate with it. Apparently, it is drinking sterilized
water, but has refused food so far."
"Mulder, where did this thing come from?" Scully
questioned, pulling one of the photographs closer to study it
intently. "And please, please don't say what I think you're going
to say."
"Believe it or not, I wasn't," he replied, leaning back in
the chair, angling his head to the side to look down at the top of
her head, still bent over the glossy photos. "There have been
several theories throughout the years. One is that these poor
creatures are the results of experiments done in genetics at MIT,
and somehow, they were inadvertently locked in the room and
were not able to get out. If they are the results of genetics
experiments, no one has admitted to it, which is hardly surprising.
Another theory of the early fifties - and the favorite of paranoiacs
everywhere - is that they were beings created by the Soviets to
spy on us and take our most valuable research. The theory does
not go on to explain how these beings were supposed to blend in
with the indigenous population," he added dryly. "In any case, I
think we can rule that theory out - our Type B doesn't
understand Russian. Anyway, the bodies of the others were
taken by "someone in the government" according to sources at
MIT, although no one will ever know who - there's no paper
trail, no evidence other than what MIT sent the Bureau for
inclusion in the X-Files, and no one's volunteering any
information. I have my own ideas about that, but knowing won't
get us any further ahead anyway. So in answer to your question,
Scully, I don't know where they came from. That's one of the
things we're here to find out."
- - - - -
After landing and collecting their baggage, they joined
the continuous traffic jam that IS Boston and drove the three
miles from the airport to MIT in the record time of one hour and
fifteen minutes. They found the building in question quickly.
Oddly, there seemed to be little excitement, possibly because the
students and the professors were so focused in their individual
pursuits that they were unaware of the extraordinary events
taking place down the hall. They knocked at the door to Lab 301,
and it was opened by a gaunt older man in a lab coat.
"Professor Neumann? I'm Fox Mulder, this is Dana
Scully. I spoke to you earlier today." Mulder and Scully
displayed their I.D. photos. The professor took hold of Mulder's
I.D. and studied it thoroughly, nodded, and stepped back to let
them enter. In answer to their quizzical expressions, he said, "It's
in the lab proper - this is just the prep room. My assistant and I
still haven't had any luck communicating with it. It is non-
aggressive and appears to be frightened. I'd say it hadn't been in
the lab very long when we found it. It was thirsty, but appears to
be in good shape otherwise. We're trying to keep this under
wraps as much as possible. I was here the last time this happened
in '87. The attitude of the government-types who took charge of
the creature's body and interrogated everyone here reminded me
of the Gestapo. This is a living being, and I believe an intelligent
one. I would not willingly trust its fate to people like that. Well,
do you think you're ready?" He smiled wryly and shook his head.
"Believe me, you will never be totally prepared for what you're
about to see."
Neumann lightly rapped an irregular series of knocks on
the inner door. A few seconds later it was opened by a middle-
aged woman who, recognizing Neumann, admitted them. The
room they entered was almost thirty feet in length and twenty
feet in width, and was divided in half lengthwise by a long,
gleaming stainless steel work table. The long sides of the room
were lined with metal counters, with storage compartments
above and below. Scattered on the counters were computers, a
laser and other space-age equipment. Neumann and the woman,
both dressed in identical white lab-coats, went to stand on one
side of the long table; on the other, in the furthest corner of the
room from the doorway in which they were standing, squatted
the creature.
"Oh Mulder - oh, my God!" Scully backed up a step,
eyes dilating with amazement. Mulder brushed past her, curiosity
and delight written upon his face. The two agents remained at the
head of the table observing the creature. It was roughly
humanoid in appearance and clothed in a blue leather-like tunic,
with a large brown pouch bound to its silver buckled belt. It was
a steel gray in color except for the palms of its hands and the
soles of its feet, which were darker, almost black. Its skin had a
leathery appearance, and it was scattered with coarse looking
black hair. There was no way to tell if the creature was male or
female though it did have a short, stubby tail protruding out from
under its short tunic. The joints were knobby, enlarged, and the
hands and feet were disproportionately big and deformed-
looking, by human standards. Its face was grotesque, with a
huge mouth, rather alarming pointed teeth, a spreading nose, and
tiny eyes. Wide, pointed ears stood out from its head. Swinging
around to take in Mulder and Scully, the creature's ears popped
up to their full length and its chest rose and fell rapidly. It slowly
moved to a standing position.
Tarnor stared at the newcomers. These two did not
have the weak, pastel aura of the woman. They didn't even have
the Thin One's light gray aura of the intellectual. These were the
types of beings he was more familiar with, beings surrounded by
warm, strong, vibrantly colored auras. The Short One's aura was
unique - the healer's brown at the center, with a wide border of
warrior green. The two colors swirled and mixed in intricate
patterns where they met. Tarnor had never seen such a
combination before.
Then his eyes turned to her tall, male companion. Great
Deities above! Tarnor blinked, then looked again. The fierce blue
of this human's aura rivaled Reinald's own, almost blinding in its
intensity. It glowed, clear and pure, like the cloudless sky on a
bright summer's noon. At last, something familiar - it was greatly
reassuring that this frightening strange place had magicians too.
Surely a magician as powerful as this one would understand
Tarrnor's predicament.
Tentatively, Tarnor focused his thoughts and energy and
tried to reach out to the Tall One. He was not accomplished at
establishing links yet, at least not with anyone except Reinald, but
if he could find an ally in this strange land...
Mulder instinctively put his hand out for balance as a
wave of dizziness and nausea struck him. Scully grabbed his arm
to steady him. "Mulder, are you all right? Do you want to sit
down? You're white as a sheet!"
"I - I think I... No, it's gone now. I'm fine. Must be jet
lag or something." From the way that Scully looked at him,
Mulder knew they'd be talking about this later.
The creature was now squatting again, and appeared
withdrawn. It closed its eyes for several minutes, its breathing
slowed, and it appeared as if it had gone to sleep. Suddenly, it
stood again, looked at Mulder, and took a few experimental steps
towards him. The woman scientist instinctively took a step back
as the creature emerged from the corner. This was new - up to
now, it had not approached anyone, but had only retreated and
assumed a defensive posture.
Mulder, Scully and Neumann held their ground as the
creature came several steps closer, now only about fifteen feet
away. Mulder squatted down, wanting to avoid intimidating the
creature by equalizing their heights. Unfortunately, the position
also impeded his ability to move quickly if necessary. He hoped
that wouldn't be necessary since he desperately wanted to
communicate with it. He had so many questions.
"I hope you know what you're doing," Scully said
softly. She and Neumann paced back a couple of steps, and she
slid her hand unobtrusively to the handle of her gun, never taking
her eyes off the strange creature. It continued to advance, now
within a few feet. Mulder extended his arms, resting them on his
knees, and held out both hands, palms up, debating whether or
not to look the creature right in the eyes. Although a sign of
honesty and forthrightness in Westerners, a direct stare was
interpreted as a challenge in some human and animal cultures.
While Mulder was considering the question, his eyes still focused
on the creature's feet, it took one more step, then squatted and
extended its hands to within an inch of Mulder's. For a minute or
two, they were motionless. Then Mulder closed the distance to
gently touch his hands to the creature's and looked into its face.
Everyone watching felt their breath catch and hold in
their throats. There was a change of expression on the creature's
face as the contact took place, a relaxation of sorts. It placed
one of its dry palms flat against Mulder's, and slowly and
carefully placed the heel of its other hand against Mulder's
forehead, its eyes locked with his. They froze in that position for
several minutes, their expressions vacant. Then, ever so slowly,
the emptiness on their faces cleared and the creature broke
contact. It got back up onto its feet, walked back to its corner
in its peculiar rolling gait, and sat. The room breathed again.
Mulder stood unsteadily, and again, Scully anchored
him. "Professor Neumann, we still need to check in at the hotel,
and Agent Mulder seems to be having a recurrence of his
hypoglycemia and needs to eat - could we return this evening?"
"Absolutely. I should be here until ten or so. This
interaction just now - incredible. Makes me sorry I went in for
Physics instead of Zoology." The professor eyed the creature
with an expression of mixed hunger and curiosity.
"We'll see you tonight then. Thank you." Scully put her
arm around Mulder's back and supported him as they left the
room.
Mulder was silent as they walked out of the building and
found the car in the parking lot. "I'll drive, Mulder." Scully
insisted, watching him with concern. He nodded silently and
flipped Scully the keys, which she deftly caught. After they were
both settled in their seats, she turned the engine over, and drove
out of the parking lot.
They traveled along Memorial Drive to their hotel, the
buildings of MIT and then Harvard on their right, the Charles
River and the Boston skyline to their left. Scully slid a glance
over to her still-silent partner. He was pale, and his fingers
trembled slightly. Concerned, she asked, "How close did I
come to the truth? DO you need to eat?"
"It wouldn't hurt." Mulder said absently. They turned
into the parking lot of the Hyatt Regency - a concession Mulder
had made to Scully's bad mood earlier in the day. While Mulder
registered for the two of them, Scully stopped at the coffee shop
and got some sandwiches and fruit juice. When they got to their
rooms, they opened the communicating door, threw down their
baggage, and Scully spread the food out on the table in her room.
"Sorry, no iced tea, they don't have it in the winter up here,
apparently."
"S'alright." He started eating his tuna on toast, his mind
most definitely elsewhere. She noticed that although his color
had improved, he was still trembling slightly. They ate in
companionable quiet for a while, although Scully was beginning
to get impatient. Finally, her patience exhausted, she cleared her
throat and dived in.
"Okay, Mulder, talk." His head jerked up as if he were
noticing her presence for the first time. He centered on her with
an effort.
"All right, Scully, but I don't think you're going to like
it."
"What was all that crap about jet lag, Mulder?" she
asked heatedly. "Nobody gets jet lag from a one hour flight in the
same time zone. What the hell was wrong with you in there?"
Yawning, he rubbed his face with his hands, then sat
back. "I think it was trying to communicate with me. Well,
actually, I KNOW it was trying to communicate with me. The
first time, when it was still across the room I was aware of -
images mostly, and colors and odors and tastes, all of them
strange, and so sharp and clear they were almost painful. The
sensations definitely did not originate with me, they had to be
coming from the creature. The images made no sense, as far as I
could tell. Anyway, I guess I got overloaded by all the stimuli or
something, because after a few seconds, it became intolerable and
I felt like I was going to pass out."
"Which you nearly did. You took a hell of a chance
letting that thing get close to you," Scully said with annoyance.
He was always putting himself into dangerous situations.
"Not really, Scully. I think it was pretty obvious that it
didn't mean any harm," Mulder protested.
"Obvious to you, maybe. But it could have hurt you
without meaning to. And don't forget that we have no idea what
kind of foreign bacteria and viruses this thing might carry."
He shrugged. "It was worth the risk. When it got close
and touched me, I was again sure that there was communication
taking place. But, there was something different. It seemed like
I was communicating with a different being. The images I was
getting were much less intense, more controlled. How can I
explain it?" He grimaced in frustration for a second, then said,
"Kind of like looking at two completely different handwriting
samples, or pictures by two different artists. The feeling I got the
first time was totally different the second time. It was still
images, sensations - totally nonverbal. But the images were
toned down, more coherent, more understandable."
"So what did you get from them?" she asked, curious
despite herself.
Sheepishly, he looked up at her. "Uh - this is the part
you're probably not going to like."
She smiled sweetly. "Don't worry about it, Mulder. I
haven't been crazy about any of it so far."
"You asked for it," he warned, then he sighed. "I got
an impression of another place, not of this world, but not of any
other world either. A kind of ... maybe a ... I don't know, maybe
a parallel reality? I can't really pin it down any better than that.
I
had visions of impending bloodshed, lots of it - that came through
loud and clear. And also a kind of Manichaean Good versus Evil
thing, with the smart money on Evil." He shook his head as if to
clear it. "Sorry, Scully, I don't know why I'm so tired, but I feel
wiped out. Mind if I..."
"Help yourself," she replied. Mulder got up, walked
over to one of the beds, stretched out on it and almost groaned in
relief. Scully observed him for a moment and then said, "Have
you given any thought to the idea that maybe all this
communicating isn't exactly healthy for you?"
"No. Scully, wait. You have to hear the rest." Mulder
was fighting a losing battle against the sleepiness which was
rapidly becoming overwhelming. "See, the thing is, whatever I
was communicating with, it ... it sees us - you and me - as
different ... from the other people it's come across here. And
Scully ... it needs us ... the healer and the magician...." He trailed
off as sleep finally overcame him.
"Yeah, right Mulder." Scully took the extra blanket
from the shelf in her closet. She removed his shoes, then
carefully covered him, restraining her impulse to ruffle his hair.
He could drive her to distraction sometimes with his almost child-
like recklessness and gullibility. She turned on the radio to the
local NPR station, keeping the volume low, and cleared away the
remains of lunch. Then she unpacked her things, and crossing
through to his room, unpacked for him. Finally she sat and
started the field reports, to the accompaniment of Brahm's First
Symphony and Mulder's soft snores.
- - - - -
==========================================
Chapter One - Part 2
"Mulder...Mulder, it's six thirty." Scully was sitting on
the edge of the bed, neatly dressed in her favorite blue suit, her
bright auburn hair still damp from her shower. She reached out
and brushed the dark bangs of his forehead tenderly.
He awakened instantly, as he usually did, although it
took a few more seconds for his brain to actually function. He
sat up, blinked and surveyed his surroundings.
"The hotel," he said, with a hint of question in his tone.
"Yes. Mulder, are you all right? You seem kind of
disoriented." Concerned, Scully leaned over and looked into his
eyes, checking his pupils.
"I'm fine, Scully. I guess I just didn't take much notice
when we checked in. Stay for a minute, I want to finish what I
was telling you about, before we go back to the lab." He pulled
himself up to a semi-seated position.
"I have to tell you," she answered. " I'm very uneasy
about all this. There's too much of an "Alice in Wonderland" feel
to it. I'm not sure I want to look for an explanation of all of
this." Scully met his eyes directly, not holding back the
uncertainty she felt.
Mulder nodded. "I think that when the explanation
comes, it will be the LEAST bizarre aspect of the whole case.
Right now you have to hear me out and we have some decisions
to make, because I have a feeling our time is limited. Sooner or
later, whoever took charge of the corpses of the other creatures
will hear about the latest arrival, and will show up on the scene. I
would prefer it if there were nothing for them to find."
"You don't seriously think you're going to be able to
hide that thing somewhere, do you?"
"Hiding it wasn't what I had in mind." His eyes glittered,
as the corners of his mouth edged upwards.
"Mulder, should I start getting scared now, because I
don't like that look in your eyes." She tilted her head sideways,
watching him with slightly narrowed eyes. Just what was he up
to?
"Scully, believe me, I know how hard this sort of thing
is for you, but just hear me out, and try to keep an open mind,
okay?" He threw back the blanket and got out of bed. As he
prowled around the room, he tried to find the words to explain.
"I learned a lot from the second link with the creature. As I was
telling you, there are two Realms in this parallel reality, or
whatever it is. The visions of these Realms were so richly
textured, it would probably take me days to mention every detail
I saw. Some of the images were so beautiful they brought tears
to my eyes, and some were so gruesome, so grotesque, so
abhorrent that I was nauseated. I could sense time and
everything else in a very different way. I don't know whether the
Communicator helped me to interpret these images, or I did it on
my own, or what; I suspect a bit of both. Anyway, the creature
in the lab is a sort of assistant to the second being I
communicated with. He's here by accident - it was the only place
he could go. There is a kind of portal that exists between that
reality and ours - that's how the creatures get here. So far, their
use of the portal has either been experimental or accidental. I
saw visions of how the other creatures had ended up here. The
first three were experiments, unsuccessful ones, seeing as they
were unable to get back to their own reality. They were trapped
in the locked room and died. Our Type B was running for his life
and dove through the portal seconds before he would have been
killed."
"Killed by what?" Scully angled her head to get into a
better position to follow his movements around the room.
"By the Others - the beings that exist in the Other
Realm. This is hard - I don't know what to call anything,
because as I said, this was all nonverbal so I don't have names or
labels. According to the Communicator, the Others are a
bloodthirsty race, Evil incarnate. The forces of the Others are
being gathered because soon there will be a war for control of
both Realms. The Realm of the Communicator will surely lose,
because its people are peaceful and have no experience with all-
out war, not in living memory anyway. There is a prophecy
however that speaks of two magicians who could join their
powers together to defeat the Others. The Communicator is one
of those magicians. He's been searching for Another."
Mulder was silent for a few minutes, then sat on one of
the beds, his hands together, steepled, his fingers resting on his
upper lip. "We seem to have captured the Communicator's
attention, Scully."
"How? And why us?" Scully's tone was suspicious.
"Evidently, the creature here can serve as a kind of
conduit. The Communicator sees us through it. As to why us..."
he turned to look at her with a half-apologetic smile. "It is
apparently under the impression that we can help it out, an
impression it received from our auras. It spotted you
immediately as a healer of great ability, combined with warrior
capabilities, something that's very unusual and powerful in its
world."
"And what's your aura, Mulder?" she asked with a tinge
of amusement creeping into her expression.
His smile turned more apologetic. "Uh - evidently, it
feels that I may be the magician it's been looking for."
Scully shook her head, incredulous. "You don't actually
believe all this, do you? Please tell me you don't believe it,
Mulder."
Mulder's smile faded, and his jaw set in a stubborn line.
"At this point, I don't believe or disbelieve. I don't know if it was
telling the truth, but I know what I saw and felt and sensed."
Scully stood up, obviously exasperated. "And of course
you 'want to believe'. Mulder, hasn't that caused you enough
trouble and grief? Aren't there enough people in the Bureau who
think you're crazy? You are risking the status of the X-Files,
Mulder - they could close us down again! And there's no way
I'm filing a field report that reads like it's been written by J.R.R.
Tolkien!"
Mulder came to halt, turning to look down at her, his
voice also raised. "What are the X-Files for, Scully? They're to
record the truth, no matter how inconvenient or unconventional
that truth might be. All I'm asking is that we go back and try to
communicate with it again. That, and keep it out of the hands of
the NSA or Cancer Man or whoever else may show up to try to
take it."
Scully took a deep breath and closed her eyes, trying to
remember that what she most loved and respected about Mulder
was also what made her the most crazy. "Okay, Mulder. How
about we go to the lab, you communicate with it, and we'll worry
about the rest later?"
Mulder nodded. "Okay, good enough." He hesitated,
then said more softly, "I'm really not trying to be difficult, you
know. I just - "
"I know, Mulder - you just believe more passionately
than is good for you, sometimes. You'd better go take a shower
and change. You're a mess." She looked pointedly at him. He
peered down at himself and grimaced. Sleeping in his suit had not
done it any good, the expensive material was crumpled and
wrinkled. Sighing, he stripped off the jacket and yanked at his
tie as he hurried into her bathroom. About ten minutes later, his
head peeked out the door. "Unh, Scully..."
"Finish your shower, Mulder," she answered laughing.
"I'll get your clothes."
- - - - -
They were at the lab about an hour later. Again,
Professor Neumann answered their knock. His face was pinched
and anxious as he said, "I'm glad you got here when you did. I
just got a call from a friend that works at Lincoln Labs out at
Hanscom Air Force Base. Some "recovery team" has been
scrambled from there. She said they were headed our way. She
doesn't know about our mutual friend in there, but I can think of
only one thing such a team might be interested in."
Mulder became very alert, very focused. "How long do
we have?"
"With luck, about thirty minutes. No more, probably
less." The professor backed up and let them enter the room.
"Okay," Mulder considered their options for a moment,
his brow crinkling in concentration. "Professor, if you and your
colleague would please stay in the prep room and do everything
you can to delay them. Get campus security to try to stop them,
arrange a sit-in downstairs, anything you can think of. Just
remember that the people directing this team are ruthless. Don't
put yourself or anyone else in any danger. By the way, can you
tell me what kind of experiments are carried out in this room?"
"I can't get very specific - national security and all that."
The professor shook his head. "Very generally speaking, we're
doing some experiments involving the space-time continuum. I
don't feel comfortable saying any more than that. All right, we'll
do everything we can to slow the recovery team down. As I said,
I was here in '87."
"Thank you." Mulder frowned, feeling his typical
exasperation with government secrecy. "Scully, let's go." His
face lightened as a new thought occurred. "Too bad there's no
People for the Ethical Treatment of Gargoyles, huh?" He smiled
while Scully groaned an exaggerated sigh.
Neumann unlocked the door to the lab, took another
look at the creature while they entered, then locked the door after
them. Mulder walked about half-way to the creature and sat on
the floor. The creature immediately came up to him, sat, and
placed its hands on Mulder's palm and forehead again. This time
they were motionless for at least fifteen minutes. The creature
withdrew its hands, and Mulder looked up at Scully who was
waiting across the room and called her over to them.
His eyes were intense. "Okay, decision time. The
Communicator, whose name is evidently Reinald, thinks he's
figured out a way to get the creature back through the portal to
its own reality. He would like the two of us to accompany it - he
thinks that only by our intercession can his Realm - and possibly
the entire parallel reality - be saved." Mulder paused for a
moment.
"I think we have to let the creature try to go back; it
doesn't belong here and will probably be dissected inside of a
week if it stays. The portal may not function, in which case all of
this is moot. Or the portal may function improperly, in which
case anything that goes through it may not arrive in the same
condition it left here. The creature is willing to give it a try.
I've
been honest with it about what may happen if it stays here." He
stared at her directly. "I'm willing to give it a try, too."
"Mulder, you're not serious. You can't be serious about
this." Scully looked from her partner to the creature, then back to
Mulder again. But before he could respond, their attention was
diverted by the sound of approaching sirens, squealing brakes,
and shouted orders.
"I'd like you to come with us, Scully." Mulder tried to
ignore the noise, hoping he had time to convince her. "Reinald is
convinced that the chances of success improve dramatically if
you're involved. He said something about a prophecy."
Scully looked at him wide-eyed, hardly believing what
she was hearing. "Mulder, wake up. This is not a dream and you
are not, I repeat, NOT a magician. We're not going, Mulder,
neither of us. If the creature wants to try a disappearing act,
that's fine, but we - WE - are staying here." Desperately, Scully
looked for anything she could use to bring him to his senses, even
if it meant playing dirty. "Please, Mulder, you can't leave. Your
work is here. And so am I." By now, there was the sound of
booted feet in the hallway.
Mulder bit his lip and nodded, bitter disappointment
etched into his face. He looked at the creature, and they resumed
their communication position for a minute. Then the creature
dropped its hands and closed its eyes. They could hear sounds of
shouting in the prep room.
"Oh, God, I'm dizzy." Mulder's slender frame shook as
he attempted to stand. "Quick, Scully, help me up. We have to
move out of the way - the portal is going to op...."
The recovery team from Hanscom kicked in the door to
an empty lab.
End Chapter 1
==========================================
Chapter Two - Part One
Tarnor woke slowly, his entire body aching from head-
to-toe. His nose was pressed down into sweet smelling grass, his
feet resting on a small tree root. Groaning, he slowly turned onto
his back and blinked up at the canopy of bright green and yellow
leaves over his head. Warm bright streams of sunlight filtered
down, dancing through the whispering leaves and gently waving
branches.
"Oooh, what a horrible dream," he muttered to himself,
stumbling to his feet as he scratched the terminally itchy spot
behind his right ear. It had seemed so real...
"******," a throaty female voice grumbled behind him
in a totally unfamiliar language. Tarnor spun around, ears flicking
upright in shock as he watched a small red-haired woman dressed
in utterly foreign clothing pull herself to her feet. By the Gods,
the nightmare hadn't been a dream! It had been real! The spot
behind his ear began to itch even harder as memories flooded
him. If the woman was with him, then what had happened to the
foreign magician?
"********!!!," an aggrieved male voice shouted from
above Tarnor's head. Oh no, he thought with dismay, his nose
twitching. The magician had somehow ended up in a tree. He was
stretched out on a thick tree branch, long arms and legs twined
around it. Tarnor and the woman both stood up to their full
heights, her head and shoulders above him, but neither anywhere
close to reaching the increasing irritated man. Unfortunately, the
tree he was suspended in was a large ancient oak with a several
foot wide trunk and no branches close enough to the ground to
enable one of them to climb up or for him to easily climb down.
Utterly confused as to why the Magician didn't simply
levitate himself down, Tarnor watched in amazement as the two
strangers started to converse loudly - or was it argue - in their
strange, dissonant speech. The woman seemed to be somewhat
amused with the predicament her companion was in, her thin
human lips baring white even teeth in a grin. The man still
clinging to the tree-limb frowned down at her, his strong human
features settling into carved stone, his green-brown eyes turning a
stormy black. His fiery aura blazed around him, swirling blue fire
so bright that it made Tarnor's eyes ache just looking in his
direction.
Tarnor found himself shuddering with fear, slowly
backing away. The woman must be either extraordinarily brave or
truly foolhardy. One did not have fun at the expense of such a
powerful sorcerer and walk away unharmed. Even Reinald, who
was a truly white magician, had a deep sense of his own
authority. One young mage-apprentice who had pulled a practical
joke on his seemingly-pleasant master had quickly found himself
pulling wagons in the shape of a donkey for two weeks. And that
was mild. Tarnor had grown up on horror stories about what less
merciful sorcerers did to people who angered them. Already he
could sense the tension growing in the air.
The sunlight fled as a menacing cloud slowly formed
above their heads. The trees themselves seemed to pull back, the
leaves twitching in the sudden calm. The air felt heavy and
charged. The woman waved up at the stranded man, bending her
head back and laughing. The moment her first peel of laugher
echoed in the air the storm broke, a lightning bolt flashing from
the boiling cloud lancing down to hit the ground a few inches
from her feet. She screamed and jumped backwards, losing her
balance and falling to the ground as the sky opened and dumped
a flood of rain directly on her head. The storm lasted for a only
few brief seconds, but was still enough to leave her totally
drenched.
Once the deluge was over, Tarnor peeked out around
the tree he had taken shelter under during the short downpour.
Somewhat wet himself, but definitely in a better mood, the
magician was laughing down at the woman who was sitting
dejectedly in a large puddle, her bright hair plastered to her head,
her dark-blue clothing soaked limp and mud-splattered. Given the
way her aura was glowing a bright fighter's green, Tarnor was
grateful not to be getting the benefit of her furious glare.
"*************************," she said in an icy
voice, her eyes stinging the still-giggling mage, who stopped
laughing and grimaced in response. Then staring down at the
ground about twice his height below him, he slowly pulled
himself into a sitting position. Then he swung his legs around so
that he was sitting on the branch with his feet dangling off the
same side. Holding on with his hands, he swung himself
backwards until he was hanging from his knees. To Tarnor's utter
astonishment, he dropped his knees and spun around the branch,
suddenly releasing himself and somersaulting to the ground,
landing on his feet, knees bending down, hands swinging behind
him to pick up some of the shock of the landing. He took a slight
hop, throwing his arms back up in the air, then came to full stop,
his face warming into a brilliant smile.
Tarnor edged closer to the woman, his feet squishing in
the mud, as the mage walked closer to her from the opposite
direction. Tarnor stood motionless behind her, watching
anxiously as the tall man extended a hand down to the still-sitting
woman. She ignored the hand for a long tense moment, then gave
a deep sigh of resignation and took it, accepting his help to regain
her feet. Even fully standing, her head only reached top of his
chest, and the fact that the odd spikes on the bottom of her shoes
were sunk deep into the ground didn't help. But from the warmth
in the mage's eyes as he helped her out of the mud suggested that
the worst was over for the moment.
Still, Tarnor was terribly confused and frightened. They
were miles from safety, with minions of the dark ones spread
throughout the woods, and he could hardly communicate with
this extraordinary couple. If all that weren't enough, it was
becoming slowly evident that this was a totally untrained talent.
How anyone could have survived to adulthood with SO much
power, but with absolutely no training was beyond Tarnor's
comprehension. But it had to be so, because otherwise, surely,
the mage would at least have sense enough to shield himself. Or
was he so arrogant in his power that he thought nothing could
harm him? Tarnor could only sure that he didn't like either
possibility. Getting these two safely to Fairwoods Castle was not
going to be fun.
- - - - -
Dana Scully trudged along behind the strange, gray
creature, her feet aching. She wasn't sure why she was following
the odd-looking whatever-it-was, but Mulder had insisted, and
she had nothing better to do but go along until she woke up. This
was just an unusually vivid hallucination, she told herself again,
even as she stumbled over a large tree root and nearly fell down.
The gargoyle thing was at her side immediately, offering her a
helping hand, which was more than she could say for Mulder who
was rambling along behind them, studying everything he passed
with great interest. He actually seemed to be enjoying himself.
Back on her not too steady feet, Dana nodded thanks to
the creature which bobbed his large head and spoke musically in
an unfamiliar language. I ought to get this dream analyzed, Scully
thought, my subconscious must be working overtime. But dream
or not, she wanted out as quickly as possible. It was simply no
fun being wet, dirty, and exhausted - dream or reality. She took a
few more steps, then spotted a large boulder under a big leafy
tree. Sighing with relief she turned towards it. She settled down
onto the cool stone gratefully, pulling off her formerly navy blue
pumps and eying them with annoyance. They had been her best
pair of shoes, but now they were ruined. This had better be a
dream, because otherwise she was really going to be mad. In the
meantime, those heels had to go. Practical enough on tiled floors
and concrete, they were functionally hopeless on dirt, grass, and
tree roots.
Closing her eyes in pain, she banged the shoes against
the rock she was sitting on until the heels came off. Just as she
was about to put the now-flat shoes back on her sore feet, she
felt, more than saw, Mulder perch himself on the rock beside her.
"You okay, Scully?" he asked, his bright eyes wide with
concern
"No, Mulder," she said patiently, like an adult talking to
a young child. "My new shoes are ruined, as is my favorite suit.
I'm still wet, my hair is a mess, and my feet are killing me. I'm
hungry, lost in the middle of a nightmare and I can't wake up. I
am most certainly not okay."
"I'm sorry, Scully," Mulder replied. "It's all my fault. If I
hadn't passed out on you, we might have been able to get out of
the room before the vortex formed. You shouldn't be here." He
gave her a dejected look.
"I'm not convinced we're out of the room - or if we are,
we're in a government lab somewhere getting pumped full of
hallucinatory drugs. This has got to be a hallucination." She
gestured expressively. "I'm just dreaming and I'll wake up soon."
"Scully!" Mulder's voice rose in frustration. "This is
hardly a hallucination. It's real." He banged hard on the rock.
"How can you deny the evidence of your own eyes, your own
senses?"
"Very easily," she said, giving him an annoyed look and
standing up abruptly. "And as far as I'm concerned you're just
another figment of my imagination. But since I seem to be stuck
in this for a while, we might as well get going to wherever it is
we're going. Maybe I can at least dream myself up a shower and
change of clothes, food and a clean bed." She stalked away, her
back straight, head held high.
Mulder shook his head and eased himself off the rock to
follow her. Their 'guide' started off again, looking back at them
every so often to make sure that they were following close
enough behind it.
- - - - -
The forest seemed endless. They wandered for hours,
the grey-skinned creature always in the lead, stopping and
waiting impatiently for them every time they fell behind, leaping
on ahead when they caught up. He kept up a fast pace, his ears
twitching as he rolled along though the heavy underbrush. The
sunlight filtering down through the trees slowly began to wane,
dusk turning what had seemed a bright, green, and warm place
into a world of menacing shadows and twisted unfamiliar shapes.
Scully was lagging again, finally tired enough to put
aside her annoyance and accept Mulder's offer of his arm. She
leaned against him gratefully, admitting - albeit only to herself -
that she was having a hard time holding onto the belief that this
was only a dream. Her eyes closed once in exhaustion and she
stumbled, falling to her knees with a cry of dismay.
"Scully!" Mulder exclaimed, immediately bending down
over her.
"I'm okay. I'm okay," she said, though her face was
screwed tight in pain. She felt like she wanted to cry.
Mulder helped her up, then led her over to the shelter of
a large oak. At least most of the plants seemed basically the same
as those on earth, he thought, as they sat down among the roots
and leaves. The 'gargoyle' as Mulder had come to think of him,
bounced over to stand looking down at them. His tiny eyes
studied them with what Mulder would have sworn was a look of
impatience.
"I'm sorry, my friend," he said wearily. "But we've had
it. We've got to rest for a while. This seems like a nice enough
place to make camp." Mulder looked around at the trees and
bushes, thinking that it actually seemed exactly like every other
bit of the forest they had trekked through for the past several
hours.
The 'gargoyle' looked over his shoulder, then back at
them. Then he gave a sneezy sigh and came towards them,
squatting down to sit close to Mulder's outstretched legs. Mulder
smiled at him, putting his arm around Scully's shoulder guiding
her head down to rest against his chest. She immediately closed
her eyes and snuggled against him, her breathing becoming slow
and steady as she drifted off to sleep.
Mulder and the 'gargoyle' sat staring at each other for a
while. The creature seemed almost expectant, like he was waiting
for Mulder to do something. Could they communicate? Mulder
hadn't tried since they'd arrived in this world, mostly because he
didn't want to faint again. But now, since they were taking a rest
anyway, maybe he could give it a try. But perhaps, they could
start with something simpler first.
When he was certain the gargoyle was watching him, he
pointed to himself and said, "Mul-der,"slowly and clearly
pronouncing each syllable. Then he pointed to Scully and said,
"Scul-lee." He then slowly pointed his finger towards the
'gargoyle,' who reacted instantly, pulling away and wrapping his
hands around his face and cowering. Hmmm, Mulder thought,
finger pointing must have a negative cultural significance. How
could he do this without upsetting him?
Mulder waited until the gargoyle peeked out through his
arms, then offered what he hoped was a reassuring smile. He
pressed the flat of his hand against his own chest and said again,
"Mul-der." He pressed his hand against Scully's shoulder and
repeated, "Scul-lee." The creature's head poked out from behind
his arms, his ears beginning to twitch. Mulder again repeated the
movements and words slowly. Then, ever so slowly, he moved
his hand towards the gargoyle, keeping fingers together, and
pressed against his chest. The gargoyle recoiled again, but not as
much as before. Mulder again repeated his circuit,
"Mulder..Scully...;" he touched the creature again.
Ears twitching even harder, the gargoyle bobbed his
head. Opening his mouth, he spoke softly. "Mmool-dor.
Ssskallee. Taaarnoor." Mulder grinned brightly as the sounds
were repeated, this time accompanied by a mimicking of his hand
motions. The excited creature pointed at Mulder, "Mooldar..."
He pointed at Scully, "Skaallee...' He pointed at himself,
"Tarnor."
Mulder nodded and excitedly repeated: "Mulder, Scully,
Tarnor!"
Tarnor bobbed his head again, and bared large pointed
teeth in smile. "Tarnor!"
- - - - -
Raising its long nose into the wind, the large wolf-like
creature drew back its red lips, baring long jagged fangs dripping
with saliva. The droplets sizzled as they hit the grass below,
burning the green foliage to black cinders. Eyes burning yellow,
ears laid back against its black-furred head, it sniffed again, then
let loose a horrific keening howl that was soon answered in kind
by several others. It leaped up onto its powerful hind legs, which
ended in three-inch long claws, and raced deeper into the forest,
joining up with one, then another, then yet another sleek dark
form.
- - - - -
Tarnor shivered in fear as his sensitive ears responded to
the howls whistling in the wind. His entire body tensed as he
recognized the sound. Soul-eaters! Several of them by the sound
of it. Ignoring Mulder's startled reaction, the small gray gargoyle
jumped to his feet and spun around, eyes darting from shadow to
shadow. This was why it had pushed them so hard to try to get to
the safety of a village or settlement before dark fall. It hadn't been
particularly frightened of the more intelligent creatures of the
dark - the force of Mulder's aura and the purity of the power that
flowed like clear spring water from every pore of the alien
magician's body would be enough to frighten them away. The
hunters and destroyers might watch and wait in the shadows, but
they would never dare attack such magical strength.
However, the soul-eaters were simple animals, driven
solely by instinct. Mulder's wild, unshielded magic would smell
like a rich source of food to them. Over the last few years, they
had killed several newborn mages throughout the Realm. Tarnor
shuddered, he had once seen the result of the attack of a pack of
the soul-eaters on a small farm. Reinald had sent Tarnor to offer
help and protection for the mage-gifted baby and its family, but
he had arrived hours too late. There had been a large, empty
crater where house and barn had once existed. Dying, the child
had resisted the soul-eaters drain on her magic just long enough
to blast them, herself, and her entire family into eternity.
Another series of wrenching howls split the air, and this
time Mulder's human ears could hear them too. He shook Scully
gently as he rose swiftly to his feet. "Tarnor?" he questioned, fear
beginning to trickle its way down his spine. "What was that?"
He shook his head in frustration. Tarnor couldn't
understand him, and he couldn't take the chance on the
exhausting mental communication if danger threatened. If only
there was a better way to communicate.
"What...Mulder?" Scully murmured wearily, brushing a
tangled knot of auburn hair out of her eyes.
"I think we've got trouble," he replied, feeling for the
security of his gun. She rubbed her sleep-filled eyes with the back
of her hand, then came to sudden awareness as the keening wails
grew louder in intensity. "Mulder, what was that?"
"I don't know, Scully. But I don't like the sound of it,
and neither does Tarnor." Mulder pointed to the little gargoyle
who was standing nearby, stretched to his full - small - height
with a large silver dagger clasped tightly in his right hand.
"Tarnor?" Scully asked, glancing from her tall partner to
the small creature and back again.
"That's his name," Mulder replied. "We were able to
exchange names while you were sleeping, but it looks there won't
be time for anything more." Tarnor was moving again, waving at
them to follow him as he pushed his way deeper into the heavy
underbrush. Mulder and Scully eyed each other for a moment,
but another high-pitched howl behind them sent them into rapid
motion.
Tarnor led them in a wild dash through the tangled
woods, feeling his way almost by instinct. Scully was able to
follow reasonably well, her small size helpful, although she often
found herself falling, scrambling to her feet, and rushing forward
only to fall again. The tender skin of her face, hands and arms
became scratched and bruised by tree limbs, branches and thorns.
One shoe got wedged in a tree-root, and she didn't even bother to
try to dislodge it, she simply pulled her foot out of it and ran on.
Behind her, Mulder was having an even harder time of
it, his height becoming a serious liability as Tarnor led them
through low-hanging branches and dense thickets of a thorny,
ivy-like brush that grew in huge rambling clumps. Trying to force
his lanky frame through one such hedge, he lost sight of both
Scully and Tarnor. Before he could finish weeding his way
through the tangled brush, a scream rent the air.
"Scully!" he screamed, struggling against a thorn-
covered tangle that had penetrating far enough through his now-
ragged silk shirt to abrade the flesh of his chest. He tugged at it
violently, hardly noticing the pain as the thorns bit deep into his
hand. "Scully!"
"Mulder...Aaaaaah!" her voice faded off into a screech,
that was accompanied by a deep, inhuman growl.
"Scully!" he cried again in frustration, his shirt ripping as
he was finally able to pull clear, emerging into a small, moonlit
clearing.
The scene that met his eyes in a that brief terrifying
instant sent waves of shock, fear, and fury through his body. In
the darkness of the forest night the yellow light of two bright
moons filtered down through the leafy canopy to hit the ground
in wavy striations. In one such patch of light, Tarnor was facing
two large animals, with jagged fangs, glowing yellow eyes, and
long wolf-like bodies. They circled him easily on their four legs,
just out of range of the long, gleaming silver knife in his grasp.
Back to back with Tarnor, Scully was balancing from
shoed foot to bared foot, her clothes in rags, bright hair falling
around her face in knotted tangles. Her blue eyes blazed defiantly
out of her smudged face. She was holding a large broken tree
limb in one hand and her spray-can of mace in the other. Facing
her were two more of the creatures, one growling menacingly,
the other whining as it pawed at its eyes.
In that same instant that Mulder broke into the clearing,
the two 'wolves' facing Tarnor attacked. His knife flashed in the
dim light, accurately hitting one wolf dead in the eye. It yelped
and fell, its weight tearing the knife hilt out of Tarnor's hand even
as the other animal bit into his arm, lifing the small gargoyle up of
the ground with a mighty twist of its large head and tossing it
back to the ground. Tarnor's agonized scream as the bone of his
forearm cracked broke Scully's concentration. As she reflexively
turned her head to see what was happening behind her, the
remaining unwounded beast struck out at her, knocking her to
the ground with its front claws. Growling its triumph, it leapt
over her, covering her body with its own.
"No!" Mulder screamed, instinctively pulling out his gun
and firing. The gun clicked repeatedly, but did not fire. "Damn
it!" he cried, throwing the useless metal object to the ground and
launching himself at the 'wolf' as its teeth dug through her clothes
into the soft skin of her shoulder, its poisoned saliva burning the
skin of her neck.
Mulder came down on top of the beast, tightening his
arms around its neck, pressing his fingers into the hollow of its
throat with all of his panicked strength. It responded by shaking
itself, pulling back just enough to turn around and glare at its
attacker. Enraged hazel eyes clashed with maddened yellow orbs,
then the beast abandoned the woman pinned beneath it and rolled
over onto man still clenched to its back. Then it shook itself free
of him, somersaulting over onto its powerful hind legs, then
pushing upwards to stand over him.
The other two surviving 'wolves' swiftly joined it to
form a circle around Mulder, pressing in on him with hunger in
their glowing eyes. Mulder felt a sudden strange weakness over
come in, much the same feeling he'd had after the psychic
communications with Tarnor and Reinald back in the lab. A small
detached part of his mind couldn't help thinking how far away
that all seemed right now.
"No, Mulder!!!!" Scully's voice barely penetrated the
haze fogging his mind. It would be so easy to sleep now. So easy
to just close his eyes...
"MULDER!!!!!" The insistent sound of her voice kept
breaking the spell.
"Scully?" He trembled in response to her demand,
forcing his eyes to open. He was confronted by a pair of snarling
beast-mouths full of huge pointed teeth and jagged fangs. The
moisture from their mouths made his skin itch and burn. Backing
slightly away, he again heard Scully crying his name over and
over. Suddenly it was as though he could feel her pain and her
fear. He could see the way he appeared to her eyes, feel the pain
lancing through his/her shoulder, hear the beating of her heart
and the choking sob of her breath.
"No!" He wasn't even sure which of them had said it,
but it didn't matter. He was abruptly angry. Calmly, icily, furious.
The rage swept through his mind and body, pushing out all the
fear and pain and uncertainty before it. The torpor was replaced
by a flood of energy which raced down every nerve of his body,
firing synapse after synapse, like an electric charge through a
power line. Each sinew of his body trembled as it fed the current,
pressure building in his veins until they felt like they would burst.
The power increased, building within him until he felt like he was
about to burst into flames, his body shaking with the need for
release.
<FLASH> Blue fire lanced across his skin, igniting the
night in a firestorm of blinding blue light. The beasts let out
horrific wails of terror, their attempts to flee failing as they went
up in blazes of blue flame, burning into cinders in no more than a
blink of an eye. Lightning bolts flashed from the sky, striking the
ground in a pattern of electrical discharge, mixing clear white
light with the deep blue fire that danced and twisted, twining
around each thunderbolt as it struck from the sky. Huge black
clouds occluded the moons, creating a deep blue fog that hovered
and spread across the forest. Finally, a column of blue flame
followed back up the path of a lightning strike, hitting the center
of the cloud with a deafening bang. The ground shook slightly,
then the heavens burst, sending a flood of water crashing down
on top of three small forms laying still and trembling on the forest
floor.
------------------------
===============================================
Chapter Two - Part Two
Pain lanced through Reinald's head as he slowly came to
awareness. His next sensation was that of cold hard stone pressed
against his nose and mouth. Groaning slightly, he lifted his head,
only to feel a violent rush of nausea overwhelm him. Closing his
eyes, he only barely held it down, whispering the chant of a basic
restoration spell. The magic response was sluggish, trickling
through his veins in slow drops. But finally the roiling fever in his
belly receded, as did the pounding behind his temples.
He succeeded in pulling himself to a sitting position,
running long fingers through his shock of white hair. His ornate,
brightly colored robe was crumpled and dusty, stained with ash
and splotches of ink. The room was quiet and dark, the chalked
diagrams on the floor smudged and broken. How long had he
been unconscious? Reinald's head jerked upright, his eyes coming
to sharp focus as the memories returned: Tarnor lost through the
vortex, communication with a foreign intellect, the struggle to re-
open the vortex out of phase, the overwhelming backlash of
energies through the link, followed by a deep black nothingness.
Had the attempt succeeded? Had Tarnor and the
foreigners made it through? Reinald needed answers, but he was
hardly in shape to get up and walk, much less utilize his
overextended magic. Resting his head in his hands, he sent up a
silent prayer to the Gods to protect both his friend and the
strangers until he could recover enough of his strength to help
them.
Struggling to his feet, Reinald fought another wave of
nausea, stumbling over to the old, red-satin chair in the corner.
Sinking into its rich padded comfort, he sighed, then reached for
the cold pot of tea resting on a carved wooden table. Pouring the
cold liquid into a small silver cup, he lifted it to his lips and
forced it down, grimacing at the taste. Normally, he could have
warmed it with a thought, now it was difficult to even bring it to
his lips. But the spell-enhanced tea went to work almost
immediately, giving him a warm rush of energy.
He quickly downed the cupful, then filled and drained it
two more times. Finally, he felt some of his strength beginning to
return. He could pull upon the power node resting deep in the
caverns below the castle, but he had already put enough of a
strain on it in the previous months, and felt that it would be better
for him to handle this under his own power if at all possible.
Feeling his muscles ache after the many hours spent
sleeping on the cold stone floor, Reinald got to his feet and
weeded his way through the clutter to a high, blue velvet-covered
pedestal. Placing both hands along the edges, he leaned over it
for a few minutes, eyes closed, body swaying slightly as he
concentrated. Swiftly removing the cloth, the prematurely white-
haired magician stared down into the Oracle Cloud, using all of
his weakened power to focus on the missing Tarnor. Where was
his old friend?
The soft white light in the large, perfectly spherical
glass-like orb flashed, then faded. Slowly an image took shape. A
small moonlit clearing in the great woods, into which burst a
small gray figure brandishing a large silver knife. Stumbling after
it came the slightly larger form of a human woman, her odd-
looking clothes ripped and dirty, her face filled with anguish and
uncertainty. As she turned to look behind her, four large shapes
dove out of the trees in front of them. Reinald watched in horror
as the battle commenced, gargoyle and woman fighting a losing
battle against the four dark beasts.
Reinald tensed himself, knuckles whitening as his hands
gripped the sides of the orb violently, trying to reach out with his
remaining power to offer whatever help he could. Before he
could even begin a man burst through out of the thickets and
dived in on top of the animal assaulting the woman. As it turned
to engage this new adversary, the man's aura suddenly blazed up
in a blinding blue flash of color. Reinald gasped in shock, his eyes
widening at such a display of unshielded power. The soul-eaters
immediately abandoned Tarnor and the woman, circling in on the
unfamiliar magician. In response to their attention, his aura began
to fade, energy leeching into the dark hollow centers of the beasts
as they hungrily devoured the mage-energy.
"No!" Reinald shouted, his voice ringing against the
vaulted ceiling of his work-room. Again he tried to reach out
with aid, but his strength was failing. He cried out in frustration,
forced to stand by and watch as a much-needed possible ally was
slowly destroyed.
But abruptly the tide turned. Reinald felt his jaw drop as
the woman's greenish-brown aura reached out to the blinking
blue aura of the weakening mage, steadying its color and
enriching its tone. A mix of blue and green and brown swirled for
a moment, then broke in bright blue flash that nearly blinded
Reinald's magic-sensitive eyes. Shielding his face with his arm,
Reinald sensed more than saw the growing Mage-storm, feeling
every nerve in his body tingle in response to the intensity of the
power being focused and released several long miles away.
Bright blue light illuminated the entire chamber in a
violent flash, then was gone. Reinald slowly lowered his
protective arm and blinked as his eyes slowly readjusted to the
dimmed light. When he could see clearly, he peered back down
into the darkened Oracle Cloud, amazed to see three figures
stirring on the water-lashed ground, large scorched area marking
the spots where the soul-eaters had been consumed.
For now, they had survived, though Reinald knew there
were other dangers lurking in the miles of forest between the
three and the safety of Fairwood Keep. There had to be a way of
getting them here faster. If Reinald had his full strength, he could
have easily constructed a Gate and brought them here instantly.
But now that was out of the question. He could use the castle's
power node, but that would mean draining it to a dangerously
low level. If only there were another way.
Reinald recovered the Oracle Cloud and slowly
wandered back to his favorite chair. Once seated he reached for a
large, heavy book with an intricately-carved metal binding.
Perhaps, there was another way.
- - - - -
Fox Mulder was the first to awaken. Curling over onto
his side, he cradled his aching head in his right arm. Ever so
slowly he opened his eyes, blinking rapidly as things slowly
wavered into focus.
"Scully!" he cried out, but his voice came out of
chapped lips in a hoarse whisper. Pressing hands down into the
thick deep soil, he struggled to his knees, then awkwardly
scrambled over on all fours to his partner. She lay shivering in a
fetal position, right hand wrapped tight around her bloody left
shoulder. Her face was half-hidden by a knot of matted dark-red
hair, her lips moving, but soundless, her breath coming in choking
gasps. Mulder kneeled over her, brushing the hair out of her face
with a gentle sweep of his hand.
"Mulder," she gasped, rolling over to face him. "I'm
okay, I think." She shuddered as she came to a sitting position,
leaning gratefully against the warmth of his body. She pulled
away the blackened edges of blue and white cloth from her
wounds, grimacing in pain. Deftly, she examined the wounds,
sighing with relief as she realized the beast's teeth had not done
more than lacerate her skin, causing it to bleed profusely. Her
biggest problem seemed to be a total lack of anything to bind the
wound with. But Mulder was ahead of her, already stripping of
his jacket. "Here, do what you can with this, I'm going to check
on Tarnor."
She nodded, taking the already ripped jacket from him
with a smile of thanks.
He squeezed her undamaged shoulder with his right
hand briefly, glancing over at Tarnor who was already sitting up,
clutching at his left arm which hung from the elbow at an
impossible angle. His skin had turned from a lustrous gray to a
dusty black and his ears lay flat and limp against his head. Mulder
closed his eyes in sympathy, then opened them again, the irises
turning as black as the dark-widened pupils. Brushing with
annoyance at the bangs glued to his forehead with the back of his
forearm, he stood up and went over to Tarnor, kneeling down
beside him.
Mulder gave the wounded gargoyle as reassuring a smile
as he could, then he pulled the ragged already undone tie off his
neck and peered around him, searching for a usable piece of
wood. Finally he spotted a broken tree limb not far from his
reach. Grabbing it, he turned back to Tarnor, only to be faced
again with the communication problem. However, Tarnor seemed
to understand what Mulder meant to do, and he bobbed his head,
his ears perking up a couple of inches.
"Okay, little one. I'll try not to hurt you too much,"
Mulder spoke soothingly, hoping that at least the sound of his
voice would let Tarnor know he didn't want to hurt him. Tarnor
screwed his face up in a tight grimace, slowly extending the
broken arm towards Mulder who rested the tie and branch on his
knees and carefully reached out to touch Tarnor's arm. Working
as quickly, yet gently as he could, he examined the wounds,
relieved to find that though the gargoyle was bleeding, the teeth
marks did not appear to be deep. The worst of the injury was the
obviously broken bone, and once that was splinted, Tarnor ought
to be all right for a while. He met Tarnor's eyes, then looked
down at the arm, then back up into the gargoyle's tiny grey eyes.
Tarnor's eyes blinked, then met Mulder's square arm, somehow
managing to indicate understanding.
"Well, better get it over with," Mulder said, even though
he knew Tarnor wouldn't understand. He held the creature's arm
as gently as he could, to avoid moving the splintered bone and
causing Tarnor even more agony, and picked up the tree limb.
Holding it against Tarnor's arm, with one hand, he firmly looped
the thin strip of material that had once been a silk tie around it,
splinting the arm.
"Not bad, Mulder, for an amateur." Scully had finished
binding her shoulder with strips of cloth torn from his ruined
jacket. She sat down behind him and eyed Tarnor anxiously.
"Though I suppose I'm as much an amateur in 'gargoyle' medicine
as you are." Mulder couldn't help smiling at the mix of frustration
and curiosity in her voice. At least it seemed she was finally
accepting the reality of their situation, even though it was a
reality he was beginning to dislike intensely.
Mulder sat back on his heels and looked anxiously
around him. The rain had finally stopped, thank goodness, but
they were still lost in the middle of the deep forest, probably
miles form any source of help, even if he'd had any idea of which
direction to go. No chance that his cellular phone would work,
Mulder thought grimly, eyeing the surrounding trees with
distrust. There had actually been a time when he had liked
forests, but right now he'd had more than enough of them for
several lifetimes.
Scully gave a choking gasp, her body convulsing.
"Scully!" he cried, reaching out to pull her into his
embrace. "What's wrong?"
"I...I don't know," she replied through gritted teeth. "I
feel like my shoulder is burning from the inside."
Mulder kept one hand around her waist as he probed at
her shoulder with the other. A tight knot formed in his belly as he
suddenly noticed the charring of both the cloth and the skin
around the wounds. His hand crept up to his own neck, as a
burning itch made itself known in spots along his throat and chin.
Poison! The beasts' saliva must contain some kind of toxin. Since
he was not feeling more than some surface discomfort, it must be
necessary for the the poison to enter the bloodstream as it had in
both Scully and Tarnor.
Scully met his eyes, obviously coming to the same
conclusion as he had. The fear and worry in her deep blue eyes
made him feel sick. They didn't know for sure that the toxin was
deadly, but it was a pretty safe bet, especially since they were
probably miles away from any source of medical assistance.
Mulder felt an intense but familiar sense of guilt wash
over him. Why was he always the one who survived, while
everyone he cared about was hurt or lost. He should be the one
poisoned, not Scully, or even Tarnor. Mulder had come to like
the funny little creature in the short time he'd known him. They'd
barely had the chance to begin to communicate. It just wasn't
fair!
Mulder sat in a dejected silence for a several long
moments, wallowing in a pit of anguish, guilt and despair. Scully
sat equally still, watching him, her mind churning, even as she felt
herself begin to weaken as the poison spread. The odd thing was
that she was more worried about him than she was about herself.
He had already lost so much, losing her could destroy him. And
that was if his own overblown guilt didn't do the job first.
'Sitting here and feeling sorry for yourself isn't going to
do you - or us - any good," she chided. "So get up off your sorry
butt and do something!"
'Just what am I supposed to do?' he asked, the sound of
their voices unnaturally loud among the muted rustles of the
leaves and the pitter-patter of water dripping off the trees.
'Get help, you idiot!' she replied, her voice breaking off
into a series of painful gasps, as another set of convulsions
rocked her body.
"Scully!" he cried, reaching out to take her back into his
arms, stoking her head until the shaking subsided. He watched
her, cradling her, as she slowly slipped into an uneven sleep.
'I have to get help. I will get help,' he whispered,
wishing he had even the slightest idea how.
But the power of his brilliant intellect was already
focusing in on the problem at hand. Consider the situation, he
told himself: you're lost, you have two seriously injured people,
there appears to be no one around for miles, you have no physical
means of communication over any distance, no transportation. If
only...
Of course! Mulder's head jerked upright, his eyes
glittering with reflected moonlight. Maybe, just maybe he could
reach the other person he'd talked with through Tarnor back in
the lab. It would be difficult without Tarnor, Mulder didn't even
know how to start, but if they'd been able to communicate
through the vortex, it ought to be easier when they were both in
the same world. Though, that was assuming they were in the
same world. But he didn't have any better ideas, so nothing was
lost by trying this one.
Mulder looked around him for a moment, then sighed
and let go of Scully. He stretched himself out on the ground, his
hands resting by his sides, then closed his eyes, and took a series
of deep breaths. After a few moments of attempting to calm
down, he gave up on the hopeless effort and simply tried to focus
on calling out to that other mind. His photographic memory
clicked into gear, supply a detailed record of the sound and feel
of that voice. A series of hazy images flashed against the back of
his eyelids: a shock of white hair, chalk drawings on a gray-stone
floor, a deep, musical voice, a large glowing round orb. "Please
answer me, we need help. If anyone is there, we need help. Help
me please, help me, help..."
- - - - -
Reinald's head snapped up as the heavy book slid out of
his fingers and fell onto his feet with a bang. His head filled with
the pleading cry for assistance that echoed loudly in his mind,
Reinald didn't even notice the pain. Impatiently kicking the huge
tome aside, he focused completely on that voice, grabbing hold of
it mentally, as he fought his way over to the Oracle Cloud,
ignoring the crash of several bottles he accidentally knocked off
of a nearby table.
Pulling off the velvet covering, he placed his hands on
either side of the glowing orb and threw his thoughts back down
that link, feeling the other mind recoil in surprise at the
unexpected contact.
"I'm here!" he replied. "I can hear you."
- - - - -
Mulder's eyes flew open as a strong, clear voice spoke
in his head, responding to his call for help. This wasn't like the
faint link he'd had before, this was like having a microphone
inserted into his skull. He could FEEL the other mind touching
his, a sensation he couldn't even begin to describe, even to
himself. He was assaulted by an intensity of sensations, each
piling on top of the last, until he wasn't sure which of him/them
was laying prone on the forest floor and which was standing with
his hands tightly gripping a smooth clear ball.
"Take it easy, it's okay," the voice in his mind soothed,
the sound toning down in volume.
"Tell me your situation," it continued, gently persuasive.
"We're lost in the woods somewhere, I have no idea
where. We were attacked by these wolf-like creatures." A picture
of the beast with its slavering, fanged mouth and brutal eyes
swam in front of his eyes, and with it came a sudden sense of
recognition and a name, 'soul-eater.' Mulder shook his head
briefly, then forced himself to continue, just barely beginning to
get hold of this silent, but vivid form of communication.
"The 'soul-eaters' attacked my friends, breaking Tarnor's
arm and gouging Scully's shoulder. The wounds aren't too bad,
but I think they've been poisoned." Reinald shook with anger and
grief as those images flooded his mind. But Mulder was still
mind-speaking in a panicked rush of words and images. "Those
things surrounded me. I thought I was dying, but Scully kept
calling me, so I tried to get away" Even his mindvoice trembled.
"...I don't know exactly what happened next, but it felt like I was
burning up inside. There was this flash of blue light, then I must
have fainted. When I woke up the beasts were gone. But Scully
and Tarnor are burning up. I don't know if there is a way to
counteract the poison. They need a doctor immediately."
The concept of a 'doctor' was accompanied by a serious
of almost frightening alien images. Reinald tried to grasp hold of
the basics, and sighed with relief as he finally understood. Of
course, he should have realized by context, a 'doctor' was a kind
of healer.
"Yes, I understand," he mindspoke back along the
wavering link. "The 'soul-eaters' poison can be treated by any
good healer, if it is gotten to before it reaches the brain. Our
biggest problem is getting to you in time."
"How long have we got?" Mulder asked, panic warring
with hope. "Do you have any idea how much distance between
us?" This thought was colored by a sense of amazement that they
were talking at all. That emotion caused Reinald his own quick
moment of surprise, but it was put aside for later. Reinald
considered the question, his mind ranging along the link.
"A couple of hours at the most, maybe less for Tarnor,
because he's smaller. Unfortunately, you are about three days
walk from here; one, maybe one and a half days by horse," he
replied. His voice took on a deep note of regret as he added, "I
wish we could set up a Gate."
"Gate?" Mulder questioned, now the one struggling with
an unfamiliar concept.
"A magic portal between two locations. I know how to
build one, but it usually takes two magicians, and a great deal of
energy. I used up most of mine opening the vortex out of its
natural phase, and I don't know what your energy level is.
Destroying the soul-eaters must have drained you to some
extent."
Mulder frowned in concentration, trying to grasp the
images that accompanied the words. Luckily he had an extremely
vivid imagination, it leaped into the gaps, building bridges that
might not be real, but would hold for the moment. "If we had a
Gate, how long would it take us to get from here to there?"
"No time at all - it would be instantaneous," Reinald
answered, his face settling into mirror-image of Mulder's frown,
deep-etched grooves wrinkling the skin around his eyes. He had
had too much to frown about in the past year.
Mulder nodded. "Okay, then show me how to make this
Gate thing."
"It's not that easy," Reinald protested. "It takes years to
learn just the basic theory."
"We don't have time for that, now," Mulder insisted
with calm determination. If this was what it took to save Scully,
then he was going to do it. No matter what it did to him. "Just
show me how it's done."
Reinald thought furiously for a moment, his mind going
in circles. The other mage's grim certainty pricked at the edge of
his mind like a sharp sword's edge. Fully trained magicians had
died in the backlash of badly constructed gates, but on the other
hand, all three were certainly dead if they didn't try. The long-
distance transportation spell he'd been searching for might be
strong enough to bring through the small gargoyle, but definitely
not the two humans. And there was no certainty that it could
bring anyone through alive. He took a deep breath and gritted his
jaw. He could not stand by and let them die. There was no other
option, he decided, sending a wave of acceptance down the link.
"This is not going to be easy. It will take perfect
concentration, and you must NOT let go of your end. Do not let
anything interfere, or we're both dead." Mulder swallowed
nervously, doubt beginning to curl its way into the pit of his
stomach. One quick glance at Scully's pale face tightened his
resolve, and he sent the mental equivalent of a nod down the link.
"I understand."
"All right," Reinald said, adjusting his position above the
globe. He closed his eyes and began to send a flood of images
down the link, letting his last memory of building a Gate wave
over them both. Mulder pushed up into a standing position, his
hazel eyes focused inward as he absorbed every detail, using his
eidetic memory to lock them into place. Finally the deluge slowed
to a crawl, then sputtered to a stop.
"Do you understand?" Reinald's mindvoice was tinged
with mixture of worry and determination
"I...I think so," Mulder answered, not in the least certain
that he understood anything at all.
Reinald paused for a brief moment, to find his center
and take another deep breath. "I'll start, be ready."
"I'll be ready." Mulder mindspoke firmly. For Scully, he
thought grimly. He would make this work for Scully.
- - - - -
Even braced as he was for it, the sudden blast of power
was overwhelming. Mulder sank to the ground under the weight
of it, grappling for control. White and blue flames swirled around
his body, running up and down the lengths of his arms and legs,
sparks flying from his finger tips, as he fought to wrap his mind
around the wayward energy. It was too much, he thought with
panic, he was going to fail, and Scully would die because of his
failure. Grief and anger washed over him, propelling him to reach
just a little deeper into mental reserves he had never known he
possessed.
Straining until the blue of his veins stood out in sharp
relief under his pale skin, until his brain felt like it would burst
out
of his skull, Mulder finally was able to seize onto the power. It
was like a door opening in his mind, suddenly he just knew how
to manipulate the power. Under his wavering, but increasingly
determined control, the power surged and tightened, forming into
a blazing column of light surrounding his quaking body. Relief
bringing the salty sting of tears to his eyes, he pulled himself to
his feet, his mind holding onto the stream of magical energy like a
drowning man hanging onto a floating tree limb.
Once on his feet, he simply held it for a while, sensing
the wildness of the magic begin to calm into an steady, even flow
of bright light. He held out his hands and watched the blue and
white flames shimmer up and down his arms, amazed that he felt
nothing more than an intense warm glow, much like the sun on a
hot summer day. Hysterical laughter bubbled up out of him, as he
couldn't help wondering what Skinner would say if he could see
this. But time was short. In shimmer of the magic, he could see
Scully's skin turning a splotchy, angry red.
Choking off his laughter, Mulder took a deep breath and
reviewed Reinald's instructions. He needed to 'ground' it. That
idea was accompanied by an image of the magic light burrowing
into the earth. Okay, he thought, I ought to be able to do that.
Closing his eyes, he tightened his mental hold on the power and
relived that image. Down, down, into the earth he pushed the
light, pressing with all his strength.
The magic shivered and circled around him, resisting the
push, but finally acceding to his will. Streams of blue fire merged
into the soil, sending up sparks as it hit the ground, then weaved
its way downward, disappearing below the surface. Mulder
pushed for what seemed an eternity, until he gasped for breath in
a whistling rush, his lungs fighting for the air he had unknowingly
been denying them.
The magic column shivered, and nearly flew backwards,
but as Mulder drew sweet air into his lungs, he gave it one final
mental push and it held. He took a couple more breaths, then
checked it again. To his surprise it was still and quiet, anchored
deep in the ground. He gave it one more downward twist, then
relaxed, sliding down into the cool, wet forest floor in near-
exhaustion.
Long moments slid by as he fought to remain conscious.
Bending his head down between his knees, he heaved violently,
his empty stomach convulsing. A few drops of stomach acid
dripped from his mouth, and he spat them away in disgust. At this
point, the pain was almost a comfort because it kept him awake.
There was too much left to do. He hadn't come this far to fail
now.
Battling against a wave of dizziness, he somehow got
back to his feet. He paused there for a moment, then pulling on
the last vestiges of his strength, buoyed only by an intense
stubborn determination, he again reached out for the power.
Seizing a current, he tossed it a few feet across the current, his
mind flowing with it as it hit the ground. Again, he pushed it
downwards, surprised to find the anchoring to be easier this time.
Just one more push and a wrenching twist, and it was done.
Mulder stepped back and studied the flaming arch with
widened eyes. Voracious gusts of wind, disturbed by the
presence of the mage-energy, whipped at his body, tore at his
dark hair and ragged clothes, sent sparks of light flying from the
shimmering half-circle. But again, as bone-achingly tired as he
was, there was yet more to do. Stepping into the center of the
arch, Mulder reached for the now-familiar mindlink, gasping in
relief as he felt approval and reassurance flow into his nearly-
drained mind.
"Good, good," Reinald felt a silly grin growing on his
face. He had had some chilling moments as he could only watch
and pray that the young, untrained talent could keep his control.
But somehow the young mage had, and there was only one last
step to take. "Send it to me!" he commanded, bracing his feet on
the floor as he felt Mulder's mind begin to focus in response.
A blast of white fire hit him, and Reinald staggered
under its weight for a brief moment, before he bent it to his will.
Straining, his still-weakened body screaming in protest, he bent
the stream of power, twining into the original blue flame that he
had created earlier, arching the magical braid into a perfect semi-
circle. Then with a practiced mental twist, he grounded it into the
stone floor, creating a mirror image to the arch facing Mulder in
the far distant woods.
- - - - -
Mulder gave in to the tears as he watched the center of
the arch begin to cloud up. The air itself seemed to bend and
ripple, finally forming into a a shimmering curtain through which
he could see a large, cluttered room with huge stained glass
windows, vaulted ceilings, and walls lined with books. Until this
very moment, a small part of him had not believed this was
possible, but there it was right in front of his blinking, streaming
eyes.
He rubbed at his eyes with a dirt-encrusted hand,
spreading streaks of mud across his cheeks, even as a smile broke
its way onto his face. Through the 'curtain' he could see a tall,
middle-aged man with a bright shock of white hair, and weary,
heavily-lined face staring at him with an expression of amazed
relief. They stared at each other for a moment, then the white-
haired man moved quickly through the portal and grabbed onto
Mulder as his legs finally gave way.
"Easy, easy," Reinald said gently, putting his arm under
Mulder's to hold him up. "You did even better than I'd hoped.
Let's get you into the castle."
"No, no," Mulder protested weakly. He turned to look
behind him at the two unconscious forms on the ground.
"Scully...and Tarnor. Help them. Must help them." his voice was
barely audible.
"I will," Reinald reassured him, half-dragging him
towards the shining Gate. "You go through first, then I'll get the
others."
"No," Mulder pulled himself free of the other's grasp
and stumbled, wavering like a drunk, towards Scully's prone
body. Obviously, during his precoccupation with the Gate she
had remained unconsciousness. Perhaps that was for the best he
thought, wearily, falling to his knees beside her. He reached out
to take her into his arms, relieved to feel her stir and wiggle
against him. Then, with no conscious comprehension of anything
except the need to bring her to safety, he managed to draw her
limp, unresisting body over his shoulder and stagger to his feet.
Reinald ran to help him, but Mulder nodded him away,
angling his head towards Tarnor, not wanting to waste a single
breath on speech. Reinald studied him for a brief moment, but
noting the glitter of determination in those burning diamond eyes,
accepted Mulder's decision and went to pick up Tarnor. Step by
weary step, both men carried their precious burdens through the
Gate.
End Chapter 2
===============================================
Chapter 3 - Part One
The young brown-haired human, clothed in a mage-
apprentice's blue and grey, stood protectively in front of the thick
oak doors. "You can't go in there!" he insisted, yet again.
"Something's gone wrong. What if the Dark Lords have
attacked, or what if Reinald has let some dangerous creature in,
or opened a Gate to The Goddess knows where. We have to
protect the Prince..." The small round man continued to babble,
his protruding belly jiggling with every expansive motion of his
bejeweled hands. Behind him the Royal Guard Captain snorted. It
wasn't like Drellor was going to lead the charge. It was a
standing castle joke that the Prince's uncle couldn't even lace his
own boots without help. He'd make a lot of noise and make sure
he was nearby to claim any glory, but he'd never put one fat
finger in jeopardy. Right now Drellor was probably dreaming
about replacing Reinald as Regent.
Captain Jourdain frowned deeply. Unfortunately, the
scheming fool might be right this time. Much as Jourdain
respected the Regent/Mage, it was beginning to appear that
Reinald had finally gotten in over his head. First he had shut
himself in his workroom, barring the door, followed by a serious
of loud explosions and a horrendous thunderstorm. Then there
had been silence for most of the day, with no sight or sound from
Reinald. And now all evidence pointed to the creation of a Gate
here. In the castle itself, against all the rules. And a very unsteady
Gate from the amount of backlash every magic-sensitive person
in the area was feeling. Jourdain did not like the situation at all.
Finally fed up with Drellor's ridiculous posturing, the
big, muscled Captain pushed the little man aside and strode up to
look down at Reinald's newest apprentice. "Look here, Grejor. I
know Reinald told you not to let anyone in, and normally you
couldn't make me disturb a working magician for all the gold in
the Realm. But something is wrong here, and I have to find out
what before it becomes a serious threat to the Prince. You are
going to have to let us in."
Before Grejor could respond, there was a loud creaking
noise and the door slowly began to swing inwards. Drellor let out
a squeak of alarm and scurried back behind two of the armed
guards. Grejor moved over beside the Captain, only the darting
of his eyes and the sweat beading up on his lower lip betraying
his uncertainty and fear.
The wave of relief was nearly audible as Reinald peeked
his white-haired head out the door. Barely noticing the soldiers,
his eyes fastened on the slender brown form of his apprentice.
"There you are Grejor. Good. We've got some company and they
need medical assistance immediately. Better go get Healer
Corvay."
Grejor and Jourdain just gaped at Reinald. His hair
stood on end and his normally immaculate robe was covered in
filth. Reinald ignored the open-mouthed stares, chiding Grejor
briskly. "Move along there young fellow. We need the Healer
here now!" His voice rose on the last word, his eyes flashing in
emphasis. Trained to follow his master's orders, Grejor jerked in
response, blurting "Yes, Mage," as he fled down the hall.
"Now look here, Reinald," Jourdain said to the
magician's back as he let go of the door and hurried back into the
room. Jourdain caught the door before it shut fully in his face and
pushed his way past it. Half-way across the threshold, he stopped
short in his tracks, a look of utter amazement filling his blue eyes.
The bright shimmering arch of a Gate filled the center of the
room, opening into a small forest glade. Just this side of the Gate
were three people, the small familiar figure of a gray gargoyle
and two completely unfamiliar humans, dressed in the remnants
of odd-looking garments. Both the gargoyle and one of the
humans, a woman, were laying on the floor shivering with fever,
their eyes glazed and skins flushed red. Leaning over the woman
was a tall, slender man with disheveled dark hair and eyes of a
color Jourdain couldn't quite identify. But what disturbed
Jourdain the most was the sense of raw, uncontrolled power that
surrounded him.
"Ahhh, Captain, Good. I didn't notice you were there."
Reinald finally looked up and saw the bulky soldier. "Better give
me a hand here. You do know some basic healing spells don't
you?"
"I'm a soldier, Reinald, not a healer. I can't do more that
a simple stasis spell." Jourdain shut the door behind with a
deliberate shove, noting with some pleasure that it slammed right
into Drellor's big nose.
"The two are not necessarily separate, Captain. But for
now that will do. You take Tarnor and I'll see to Scully." Reinald
hurried over to the two humans and began the simple chant.
"That's only a prophecy, Reinald!" Jourdain protested,
but another quick glance at the wounded gargoyle convinced him
not to waste time. He went to kneel by Tarnor's side and joined
Reinald in the chant, their two voices singing in syncopated
round, punctuated by annoying knocks on the door.
The spells took hold as a soft brown shimmer of light
surrounded both Scully and Tarnor. Mulder watched the
procedure anxiously, then as Reinald pulled away, he reached up
to grab onto Reinald.
"What happened? What did you do to her?"
Jourdain listened in surprise as the strange man spoke
rapidly in an utterly foreign language, heavy with hard
consonants. To his further amazement, Reinald answered back
fluently in the same language.
"We put them into stasis until the Healer can get here.
That will at least keep them from deteriorating further."
"Stasis? You mean something like cryogenic freezing?"
Mulder asked, trying to grasp the concepts without the aid of the
psychic link.
Reinald frowned. His language spell gave him basic
fluency in their odd language, but those words didn't quite
translate well. Something to do with intense cold, he shook his
head. "I'm sorry..." Further explanations were interrupted by the
near-breathless arrival of Grejor with the brown-clad form of the
Healer in tow, Drellor following closely behind. Jourdain pushed
past the Healer, grabbing Drellor by the front of his robe before
the little fat man could open his mouth. Without a word, Jourdain
shoved the gaudily-clad noble out the door and shut it in his face,
knowing he might have to pay for the act later, but not minding
in the least. Whatever revenge Drellor tried to exact would be a
small price to pay for not having to listen to the mindless fool
now.
"What's this about, Reinald?" Healer Corvay asked as he
crossed the room, the annoyed look dropping from his face as
soon as he saw the two figures in stasis on the floor. "By the
Gods!" he swore, shoving Grejor aside to rush to his new
patients. "What happened?"
"Soul-eaters." Reinald said matter-of-factly. Even the
seasoned warrior, Jourdain, shuddered at that thought. Those
beasts were enough to frighten anyone.
"How did they get away?" Corvay asked as he banished
the stasis spells and reached out to touch Tarnor and Scully,
writhing as their pain seeped into his body.
"Mulder blasted them, but not before they bit Tarnor
and Scully." Reinald responded. Mulder had been following the
incomprehensible exchange closely, and he glanced up at the tall
Mage in response to the sound of his name.
"Just explaining what happened," Reinald soothed.
"Corvay is an excellent Healer. If anyone can help them, he can."
Mulder nodded, having no choice but to accept what Reinald said
at face value. Suddenly the lost agent felt an overwhelming
fondness for modern hospitals, even though he normally avoided
them whenever possible. Right now he'd give his right arm for
one.
Corvay looked startled at the rapid exchange on the
unfamiliar language, but he quickly focused back on his two
patients. Closing his eyes, he stabilized their sleeping patterns,
then reached with his mind, Tarnor first and then the woman, to
find the nerves leading to their damaged extremities and closed
them off to dull the pain. Then, he reached into Tarnor's
bloodstream and began the slow process of targeting the poison
for destruction, encouraging the gargoyle's own immune defenses
to recognize the toxin as a foreign entity to be destroyed.
Satisfied it was beginning to work, he then did the same for
Scully, his mind pushing at the tiny living cells circulating in her
blood, encouraging natural antibody production to speed up,
helping more of the necessary cells to proliferate and migrate to
the contaminated areas.
As Corvay worked, lost in the minutiae of his patients
bodies, Jourdain caught Reinald's attention with a series of angry
questions. "What do you mean, 'Mulder' blasted them? And why
did you build a Gate here? You know they're not allowed within
the castle! What are you up to, Reinald?"
"I didn't have any choice," the magician responded,
giving the big soldier an annoyed glare. Jourdain took it calmly,
giving as good as he got. Reinald sighed and perched himself on
the edge of a table, and began to explain.
"Tarnor was scouting for me in the woods, when he ran
into a pack of Hunters and Destroyers. Left with no other choice,
I told him to chance the vortex."
"You what?!" Jourdain exclaimed.
"He couldn't let them catch him, he knows too much.
Anyway, he got through the portal just fine."
"Through to where?" Jourdain questioned with slightly
narrowed eyes.
"To an alternative Realm, and not The Dark Place,
thank the Gods. I still don't know much about the place he went
to, the images I got were very confusing. But once the Dark
Forces had cleared the area, I was able to reopen the Vortex to
pull Tarnor back through..." Reinald paused, and glanced at
Mulder, who instantly sensed the glance and looked up from
Scully to stare at both men. Jourdain felt the glance, turned to
look at Mulder, then back to Reinald. "And them...?" he prodded,
none-too-gently.
"Tarnor found them," Reinald responded. "The woman
has the aura of both a healer and a soldier, mixed brown and
green. The man is a magician of extraordinary strength. He may
be stronger than I am."
"The prophecy!" Jourdain drew a quick breath, and
turned to stare at Mulder who glared back.
"I think so," Reinald sighed and rubbed his eyes.
"Unfortunately, opening the Vortex took all of my strength. I fell
asleep for what must have been several hours. By the time I woke
up and recovered enough strength to even look for them, they
were under attack. Luckily, the Mage was able to destroy the
soul-eaters before they drained him, but not quickly enough to
stop the others from being hurt. He called for help, and together
we were able to build the Gate to bring them here."
Jourdain broke his staring contest with Mulder and
angled his head back to Reinald. "I don't understand why soul-
eaters would attack an adult mage, they usually go after
unshielded newborns. And how could he fail to know they were
coming and shield himself."
Reinald shook his head. "I don't understand it all myself,
but I'm afraid Mulder IS like a newborn Mage. He has absolutely
no shield and no control."
"What?" Jourdain's skin bleached white. "No shield....no
control...maybe stronger than YOU! How could that be? How
could he survive? How could anyone around him survive?"
"I don't know," Reinald replied, shrugging his shoulders.
"Their world is so foreign to ours, I don't have enough
information on it to answer that."
"By the Gods!" Jourdain swore. "Can you keep him
contained?"
"I think so. He's pure, Jourdain. Of that I'm sure. His
aura is clear and untainted."
Jourdain shook his head, while he didn't doubt Reinald's
assertions, he still was terribly frightened. Trained adult Mages
were enough to make most people nervous, untrained children
could frighten whole villages until they were taken in hand by an
older mage. To have one wandering around with absolutely no
training but with a full adult's power, especially one potentially
more gifted than the Royal Magician, was a nightmare. The entire
court, Drellor in particular, was going to go into seizures when
they found out.
A sudden thought occurred to him, and it brought the
edge of a grim smile to his lips. There was no reason why the
court had to find out - at least not yet. No one outside of this
room knew, and it had better stay that way.
"Can you teach him?" he asked.
"Yes, of course I can. It will be difficult, but he
managed to help build the Gate on incredibly short notice. He's
smart and extremely determined. He'll learn."
"He'll have to. But we'll need to keep it quiet. I'll report
that you're exchanging spells or something with a foreign
magician who is visiting with his...unh..."
"Wife." Reinald interrupted. Jourdain looked at him in
shock. Mages never married, they rarely even formed close
friendships.
Reinald smiled. "They ARE foreign, remember. As
surprising as it seems, I think they may even be life-bonded."
"What!" Jourdain felt like the room was spinning. He'd
had one shock to many in too short a period of time. His jaw felt
like it was permanently hanging down. But he was a battle-
experienced warrior, and he hadn't survived three wars - well,
border-skirmishes - to fall apart now. Okay, so he was faced with
a living breathing prophecy come true: a totally untrained adult
alien mage of extraordinary power, and one with a bond-mate to
boot. Well, why not? He grimaced and focused sharp blue eyes
on both Reinald and the gaping Grejor. "Nothing of what you've
told me leaves this room. They are simply visitors from some far-
off land, with slightly odd customs, come to trade spells with
you. Once you've got him under some control, we can decide
how much more to let out. But nothing more for now. Is that
understood?"
Grejor just gave a barely perceptible nod. Reinald
rubbed at his chin for a moment, considering, then agreed. "All
right. But we have to tell the Prince the truth, and Scully will
need weapons training. She should be a natural fighter, given her
aura. Is there someone you can trust to teach her?"
Jourdain thought for a moment, eyeing the still-
unconscious woman on the floor with doubtful eyes. Then he
nodded slowly. "Aldara can teach her. She's one of the best
fighters I've ever seen, and she's about the same size."
"Good!" Reinald replied. "Mulder and I can start
tomorrow." Mulder again responded to the sound of his name,
his eyes darkening with his increasing irritation at not being able
to understand the conversation, except for his intuitive
recognition that they were discussing him and Scully. At this
mention of his name, he stood up and spoke bluntly to Reinald.
"What's going on?"
"I was just telling Jourdain," Reinald gestured towards
the Captain, "what has happened. And we're discussing how to
handle your presence here."
"You're the one who asked us to come." Mulder's voice
was belligerent, his eyes snapping. Reinald saw his aura, drained
as it was, flare up, and reached out to soothe the angry Mage.
"Yes I was, and I will explain everything to you. I just thought it
might be better to explain to you and Scully at once."
"Try explaining to me now," Mulder insisted, his face
tightening in pain. "Scully is hardly going to be in any condition
for explanations for a while." A sudden groan from the woman in
question broke into the conversation, and Mulder instantly
dropped to his knees beside her.
"Scully?" he questioned, reaching out to touch her.
Reinald watched in amazement, as Mulder's blue aura flew ahead
of his hand, mixing with the faint green/brown of hers, feeding his
life energy to her. In response her aura flared and strengthened,
merging with the blue flame to produce a bright rainbow where
the met.
"Mulder..." Scully's eyes slowly opened to see his
anxious face peering down at her. She smiled softly, happy to see
him there and well. "What happened?" she asked, trying to sit up,
but her body was too exhausted to obey, and she slumped back
down to the floor.
"Hey, take it easy," Mulder warned, though his
countenance lightened with his joy at seeing her improve. He
didn't know what the Healer had done, but it certainly seemed to
have worked. "You were hurt, remember?"
"Where are we?" she questioned, staring arund her in
amazement.
"I found help," he replied succinctly, not wanting to try
to explain now. "I'll explain later. Right now you need to rest."
She nodded, exhausted, leaning against his arms and
closing her eyes. As she slipped into an easy slumber, Mulder
swept the hair out of her eyes and looked from Corvay to
Reinald.
"Tell him thank you," he whispered.
- - - - -
===============================================
Chapter Three - Part Two
Mulder and Scully sat back in their chairs, sipping
slowly at the odd-tasting potion Corvay had insisted they drink.
Scully had been particular loathe to drink anything she didn't
know, but Reinald had insisted. He'd even taken a glass of it
himself, and was now sitting on a small stool in front of them,
drinking from his cup and watching them with some amusement.
Mulder looked over at Scully, shrugged and chugged
down the rest of his drink. Actually it didn't taste too badly,
rather like a very fruity wine, and it caused an immediate
sensation of warmth to spread out from his throat and stomach.
When Scully saw that it wasn't bothering Mulder too much, she
gave in and took a deep swallow. Then she smiled and took
another. "This is pretty good."
"It's an excellent restorative," Reinald responded. He
smiled. "And it has the added benefit of actually tasting good.
Most of the healer's concoctions are enough to make anyone sick
just from the taste."
Mulder laughed, "It looks